


Frustration

by diannelamerc



Series: The Mardi Gras Series [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Culture, Angst, Masturbation, Multi, Season/Series 01, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-29
Updated: 2005-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:24:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diannelamerc/pseuds/diannelamerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh from Mardi Gras, the trio end up, uh, culturally divided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frustration

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** None of them are mine, and I'll put them back neatly when I'm done. :)

It was completely and utterly unfair.

The Doctor swore he didn't know (more likely he just hadn't thought about it), and he reminded her that it was only for three days. And how often did one actually get invited as a guest of honor to the Installment of the Sheik of Ffokinem anyway?

Rose had no idea. And at this moment, lying alone in her bed of silks and satins, she didn't care.

~~~~~~~~~

_"If you two gentlemen would kindly follow me...."_

The butler or minister or whoever he was, dressed in swathes and billows of the kind of flashy fabric that you just knew had to be expensive as anything just to look at them, turned and gestured Jack and the Doctor towards an elaborate archway to the right. A woman draped in less color but just as much expense had come up silently beside Rose and taken her arm, clearly intending to lead her in the other direction.

"Uh—"

But before she had had a chance to protest, the Doctor had cut in smoothly. "We appreciate your hospitality, but there's no need to keep separate quarters for us, especially with our last minute arrival. My companions and I are quite used to traveling together."

"Yeah," Jack added, with a quick wink at her. "We'd rather not split up."

Rose felt a flush of heat at the thought. This had been their first stop after a particular Mardi Gras outing she was never, ever going to forget. Since then she could probably count the minutes they'd not all been together — very much together — on one hand...

So when the woman silently tugged on her arm, Rose frowned at her and refused to budge.

The butler-bloke also frowned, the little tassels on his hat swaying slightly. "You are most honored guests of the Sheik, and I assure you, we will make all possible accommodations for you. But...," he spread his hands as if to indicate they were devoid of any power. "It is the custom, you must understand. Men and women keep separate quarters within the palace walls. It has always been so."

"What if I said I'd married her?"

Rose couldn't tell if the look on Jack's face or hers registered greater shock.

But the butler was already shaking his head, with a solicitous expression of deep regret. "It makes no difference, sir. Men and women must keep separate quarters within the palace walls. Your companion," and here he looked over at Rose for the first time, "will be treated like royalty, I assure you."

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "Just a moment, if you please." Both the butler and the silent woman at her arm looked puzzled, but made no attempt to stop the trio convening a few steps out of earshot.

"I don't want to be alone!"

"I thought you'd been here before!"

The Doctor scowled at them both. "Customs shift all the time. I didn't think they'd be so bloody—"

"—anal about it?" Jack offered.

"You just forgot," Rose accused, thoroughly annoyed. "I could have dressed up and passed for a bloke if I'd known." That claim got dubious looks from both men that would have been flattering under any other circumstances.

"I did not 'forget'," the Doctor insisted, "It's just that fifty years ago they were pretty lax about enforcing all the old customs." He scowled at the marblework floor. "You apes and your mood swings...."

That got him swatted from both sides. But it didn't solve the problem.

"Rose, they mean it when they say you'll be an honored guest—"

"Unless they've had another 'mood swing' and decide to throw me in the harem!"

He chuckled infuriatingly. "Ffokinem doesn't go in much for harems, and they certainly wouldn't go around enslaving women into them."

"Says you," Rose muttered, looking pointedly at the silent, enveloped woman waiting for her.

Turning so that his shoulder hid the gesture from their waiting hosts, he ran one hand along the side of her face, cupping her cheek and looking steadily into her eyes. "Rose, do you honestly think I'd let you go if I thought there was any chance you'd be in danger?"

Her heart twisted a little, and she dropped her eyes. "No." And she knew it was true.

"We should have brought the cell phones," Jack muttered. "Just in case."

"Now that," said the Doctor, "Would have been a terrible breach of protocol and manners in any century here."

"Well, as long as we're polite about sending her off on her own—"

"It's a palace, not a dungeon, Jack!" The Doctor glared. "Besides, our Rose can handle herself." He turned back to her and she felt a ridiculous amount of emotion swelling up. 'Our Rose.' She definitely liked how that sounded.

~~~~~~~~~

Of course 'Our Rose' was now completely alone, dressed in something silk-like and clinging, sitting in the middle of a luxurious bed out of the Arabian Nights... with absolutely nothing to do. No _one_ to do, she corrected.

Jack had slipped her something before they parted, while the Doctor was assuring her they'd see each other at the festivities every day, and she was really just making too much of a fuss about it. A simple alarm beacon, the size and shape of a contact lens. Just snap her half in two, he assured her, and his would go off with enough noise to wake the dead.

She tugged him down by the front of his shirt and gave him a quick kiss for that, the Doctor shifting awkwardly in front of them, no doubt trying to hide such an inappropriate display from their hosts. Then she stepped towards the Doctor, as though intending to pass him by entirely. But at the last minute she snaked her hand right down the front of his pants and gave a quick, teasing squeeze. "It's only three days, right?" she whispered as she left them and moved off towards the waiting woman without looking back.

The memory of the Doctor's expression and Jack's desperately choked laughter kept a smile on her face all the way to her rooms.

But the amusement had faded. She'd thrown herself into the experience of being bathed, massaged, dressed, and fed elegant confections while being entertained by a quite talented singer with a little harp-like thing in her lap. The Doctor had been right, she was being treated like a fairy-tale princess and she'd managed to enjoy every minute of it.

Until now. Now she had been left alone to sleep, but sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. She was horny, unbelievably so, and the two people she wanted to do something about it were who-knows-where on the other side of the palace.

They'd better not have half-naked dancing girls over there, she thought bitterly, turning the alarm chip over and over in her hand.

With a sigh she stood up and set it carefully on the nightstand, where she could find it if need be, but wasn't likely to accidentally break it just by fidgeting. Horny as she might be, she couldn't see that constituting a "bring the guys in with guns blazing" sort of emergency.

Guys. Guns. She groaned. She must have just about the dirtiest mind on the planet right now. After all, even if stupid dancing sluts were being provided over there, it wasn't as though she thought the Doctor _would_... or even Jack....

Of course not, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. After all, they have each other....

With a truly theatrical groan she flung herself back on the bed. The fact that it had taken her this long to think of it.... Well, that just proved what a provincial little 21st-century girl she still was, didn't it? No need for either of them to suffer like she was, not when they had matched sets of more-than-willing hands and lips and tongues between them....

Rose rolled onto her back, hands sliding past already-hard nipples and right to her crotch. Images of the Doctor and Jack together filled her head — kissing, touching, skin sliding against skin. One hand was already rubbing at her swollen clit, while the other snaked down lower to slide fingers deep into the slippery void inside her.

She had felt ready to explode at a touch before, but now she found herself just on the edge, somehow unable to push herself over it. She felt ridiculous tears coming to her eyes and tried to focus on images of Jack and the Doctor, and what they might be doing to each other this very moment. She fast-forwarded the images in her mind, past the kissing and teasing, and tender touching. She needed much more than that right now.

She thought of Jack's mouth, lips swollen from the earlier kissing, sliding slowly down the length of the Doctor's cock. The Doctor's hands fisting in the sheets as he attempted to maintain control, his eyes dark and focused with lust. Then Jack moved forward with a lascivious grin, positioned himself carefully above, and eased himself down, groaning with pleasure as he was filled....

Rose came, hard, bucking against her own hands and trying to cling to the scene in her head as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. When she finally lay spent, alone, atop the satin sheets, she choked back a sob. Her body might be sated for the moment, but her heart was not. The Doctor was right, she was being ridiculous. But the closeness between them all was so new, so fragile, that to be without it made her ache.

Sliding under the covers she grabbed as many pillows as she could, piling some tight against her back and wrapping her arms and legs desperately around the others. Her body finally ready for sleep, she tried to imagine the warming silk as skin. Tried to imagine herself wrapped tight between them — safe, loved, cherished — as she finally drifted off.

~~~~~~~~~

After an elegant breakfast (alone in her rooms), Rose was dressed in the same voluminous drapery as the rest of the women here, and led out to the opening ceremonies. She wasn't sure if she was annoyed or relieved to realize she wouldn't be sitting with the guys either. She spotted them, about thirty feet away, across a gender-segregated aisle.

The Doctor was grinning, already enjoying the adventure. _(Or remembering what he and Jack had been up to last night without her?)_ Jack gave her a serious look-over and made a point of mouthing over 'Are you O.K.?' Finding herself unable to come up with a subtle way of quickly signing 'I'm on the very edge of lunging through the crowd, grabbing you both by your tight asses and shagging you senseless in the middle of the aisle, except for the fact that I hate you both right now, you smug bastards!' back, Rose settled for a tight smile and a nod.

Jack leaned down to say something in the Doctor's ear and images from her fantasies of the night before came flooding back. She squirmed uncomfortably in her luxurious chair, and then had to repeat the smile and shake off a concerned look from one of the other women nearby. Desperately, she turned towards the stage before her.

Mercifully, the spectacle provided was all that the Doctor had promised. Exotically costumed acrobats, trained animals, musicians, clowns, feats of skill and daring, short but moving theatrical pieces, and all finished off as evening dimmed with a spectacular display of lights and fireworks. It was like every circus rolled into one, and Rose could barely believe the entire day had passed before she'd noticed.

As she rose with the rest of the crowd, she realized it was too dim for her to make out Jack or the Doctor any more. She allowed herself to be lead back to her room and amused again with wine and stories and song as she was unwrapped from the metres of soft fabric (for which she'd been very grateful in the glaring sun and heat of the day), bathed, fed, and put again to bed.

Once again, sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. Under the cool breeze coming through the huge windows, her body was burning. Her skin actually itched to rub against skin. She'd had to bite down on her lip hard to keep from moaning and twisting under her nightly massage. For a moment she'd even considered rolling over and trying to get the woman to finish her off, moaning and begging with need.

She blushed hot at that thought. But after all, who said she couldn't be flexible too, dammit? God, listen to her! One amazing Mardi Gras and she'd been turned into a raving nympho! Months she'd gone without a problem, side-by-side with the Doctor every day. But now every moment alone just frustrated her more.

She'd managed to restrain herself from assaulting the poor masseuse, but only just, and now she tried to relive the feel of the woman's hands on her body as she pulled up images of Jack and the Doctor in her head. But she found her traitorous body even less co-operative than it had been the night before. No tweak she could possibly give to her own hard nipples could possibly match the memory of warm, soft, knowing mouths and clever tongues. Her fingers on her own clit might be all-too-well practiced, but they could never make her shudder and gasp in surprise at an unexpected touch. And the fingers she'd pushed inside simply weren't enough — not hard enough, not deep enough, not steady enough as she shivered and twitched and cursed again on the very edge but unable to push herself over.

Grasping for images she repeated the scene her mind had offered from the night before, Jack sliding slowly, so erotically, down to his own fulfillment, but it wasn't enough this time. She needed more, much more, and she roundly cursed them both for a pair of bastards for leaving her like this.

Pausing for a moment, wildly wondering if one could actually go insane from sexual deprivation, her eyes scanned the entire room for something, anything, she could use.... But there was nothing. Dammit! The hairbrush so much like her own from Earth had been neatly tidied away by her attendants as they left her. With a groan she remembered the now-very-handy-looking shape of the masseuse's oil flask, but that was gone as well.

Everything surrounding her was soft and silk and yielding and none of it would ever substitute for the hard fullness she wanted inside her right _now_. And while Jack, damn his eyes, probably could have managed without a qualm, even this frustrated Rose was not up to finding and waking up her attendants just to beg them for a spare dildo.

Whimpering, she pushed down again onto her fingers, as hard as she could. Her clit was starting to ache more from abuse than pleasure. Desperately she curled her fingers and pressed up hard, grinding her other hand into her clit, and focused on her memory of the Doctor's expression, after Mardi Gras, when she and Jack had successfully double-teamed him in a race to make Mr. Superior Being lose all control first....

With a strangled cry she finally felt her body yield, heat flushing her entire skin and her inner walls rippling obediently around her savagely moving fingers. Lying there, exhausted, feeling unexpected tears of sheer relief well up in her eyes... she realized it hadn't been enough. Her body was still aching in every sense — almost too sore to touch and yet still hungering for a deeper, more complete release.

The tears in her eyes turned bitter and she rolled over, defeated, actually sobbing softly into the pillow. She hated them both, the smug bastards. This was probably the effect of some weird Gallifreyan sex hormone or something the Doctor had 'forgotten' to mention. Two nights without them and she was in utter misery. That couldn't be normal, could it? She'd managed just fine for far longer between shags when she was with Jimmy or Mickey.

But neither Jimmy nor Mickey had ever made her feel the way Jack and the Doctor did. It simply wasn't _fair_ she screamed in her mind, as she rolled over onto her piles of silk pillows and tried to force herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

Rose had little success, and what sleep she managed was broken by random, indistinct, wandering dreams of loss and fear and need. When the sun rose the next morning, she was already awake. And when her attendants finally arrived, she did her best to hide her sour mood and drooping eyelids.

The second day's entertainment was almost entirely theatrical: Long, elaborate tales of love and loss and recovery, of heroism and bravery in battle. For her part Rose had refused to even look over at where she could see Jack and the Doctor from the corner of her eye, doing her best to throw herself into the stories enacted on stage in front of her instead.

Shortly after the noonday refreshments had been served around, Rose found herself drifting off. During one long and complicated battle sequence she'd actually fallen asleep in her seat long enough to have to wipe drool from her shoulder. Luckily a quick glance around seemed to indicate that her rudeness had gone unnoticed in the dimming light.

Straightening herself up again, she managed to make it to the lights-and-fireworks finale without any more lapses. Relieved to be through another day (She was going to _kill_ the Doctor for this. 'Just three days' indeed!), Rose was surprised to find herself escorted, along with most of the women directly around her, up towards the main hall, instead of off to the women's quarters.

Tonight was apparently the time for a huge, co-ed banquet in the new sheik's honor. Normally she would have been impressed by how closely the Doctor (and his party) was seated to the head of the long table. Only a few seats apart, the Doctor would easily be able to spend the evening chatting with the sheik himself. So impressive indeed.

But Rose was not in a mood to be impressed by the Doctor's endless connections right now. Any hopes she might have had for a little under-the table impropriety — or even just rude comments — were squashed when she realized that the 'table' was less than a foot off the ground, a good six feet wide, and provided with cushions on the floor... men taking their seats along one side, and women along the other.

The Doctor's wide, face-splitting grin at seeing her again faltered quickly under her own withering glare. Frowning a bit (Rose would swear she could see "stupid little apes and their mood swings" running through his mind), he turned instead to greet the man of the hour. She suddenly felt the desperate need to fling a chair at his smug alien head, and suspected the lack of one to hand was the only thing that was currently saving him from a nice alien concussion.

Jack, having seen her response, was slightly more diplomatic in his approach, and offered nothing but a vaguely sympathetic smile in her direction as everyone got settled. She could practically see him desperately running through opening lines in his head as reasonably familiar foods were placed in front of them. By the time they'd taken their first bite, he'd opted for: "It's great to see you again, Rose."

So much for her biting comebacks for "How are you?" and "Having fun?".

She simply nodded and took another bite.

He tried again, the ambient noise level enough for them to have some small stab at a semi-private conversation across the table's great expanse, "Everyone treating you well?"

She looked up and gave him a tight smile. "_They_ are all treating me wonderfully, Captain. Thanks for asking." She didn't bother asking how he and the Doctor were doing.

Jack clearly knew he and the Doctor were in the doghouse, but being Jack he had to try to charm his way out. "Tomorrow morning it's apparently horse races, or something like that," he offered. "Then the big ceremony and then we can get out of here." He faltered a little, when he realized what he was saying, but no one around who had heard him seemed to take any offense.

Rose just nodded again, indifferently. She'd just discovered that one of the goblets in front of her held something that tasted a bit like lemonade, but promised all the kick of serious alcohol.

"You know that's actually pretty strong stuff...." Jack trailed off his warning at her look. She deliberately took another big swig of it, just managing not to choke on the burning in her throat.

Jack's next look — to the Doctor, probably for back-up — was entirely in vain. The Doctor was all smiles and toasts and small talk with the local chieftains. Jack's next look at her was that of a man who knew he should stop while ahead, but wasn't going to.

"They say the rooms are pretty much the same on both sides of the palace. Lots of silk and pillows?" He checked with a grin, apparently assuming he was on safe enough ground.

"Lovely," she agreed, without the smile. She toyed with another bit of roast meat on her plate. "Nice big bed. Nothing but silk and pillows. All to myself." Looking up on that last phrase, she saw she'd managed to make her point. Jack's contrite wince triggered something in the bits of her body still aching from the night before. Rose had the sudden image of reaching across the table for his hand, slipping away somehow to her rooms, and shagging him mercilessly into oblivion before the Doctor even noticed they were missing. See how well Mr. 'Three Days' liked being odd man out.

Since there was no way she could possibly carry out such a maneuver from where they sat, Rose was almost relieved when a dancing girl (wearing, to her credit, a lot more actual clothing than she had in Rose's imaginings) spun her way down the center of the table between them, all twisting scarfs and jangling coins.

She took another drink instead.

A few minutes later, when the way had cleared again, Jack looked straight at her, dead serious, all charm and flash gone. "We've missed you too, Rose."

He certainly sounded sincere, but her head was starting to feel a little light from the lemonade and she wasn't feeling all that charitable. "I can't see why." She steamrollered right over the hurt look of surprise that elicited. "I mean I'm sure you two have been managing to keep yourselves _quite_ busy enough without me."

Dammit, she swore in her head as his slight blush confirmed her suspicions. She took another good drink to help suppress the images of Jack and the Doctor enjoying their own private little orgy every night while she moaned and whimpered alone.

"It's not like that, Rose." He sighed at her frank look of disbelief. "Well, yes," he glanced to each side, trying to work out a way to discuss their sex lives (or lack thereof) at a public dinner party. "O.K., _some_," he admitted. She snorted at that, raising her goblet for a refill from a passing waiter. "But not like you're thinking, Rose, I swear." He was leaning forward now, completely serious, willing her to believe. "It's _not_ the same without you. It never could be."

That touched a chord deep inside her, and not just between her legs. But she was still mad, dammit, and she was having trouble keeping her eyes focused on his face. So when Rose noticed a couple of their table mates giving them odd looks, she pulled back with a mean smirk. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Grabbing her goblet tightly she stumbled to her feet and looked around for her attendants. She wasn't the first guest to be leaving, although the others probably were more intent on resting up for the big day tomorrow. Rose found her way to the women's quarters easily enough. Only three wrong tries before she found the right room — something she could only be sure of at the sight of the clothes she'd arrived in laid out neatly on a side table — cleaned and pressed.

Stumbling her way to the bed Rose just managed to catch her arse on the edge of the mattress before she technically fell over. Draining the goblet in one choked swallow, she collapsed back onto the neatly-made bed in all her trailing robes. Rose tried to kick off the sandals at least, but they were tied too cleverly around her ankles.

Her last conscious thought was of how comfortable they were, and whether they'd let her take a pair with her when she left....

~~~~~~~~~

Rose was awoken by a searing pain in her eyeballs as some sadist moved the cover away from her face and the full sunlight of the morning streamed in. "Ugh! No!" she moaned, clawing the covers back up and seeing the face of her attendants disappear behind it. "Go'way! Leave me alone," she begged, her head throbbing so hard she thought she might have actually been poisoned by the alien drink and be about to die. At that moment, she thoroughly welcomed the thought, just as long as the pain stopped.

They left the cover pulled up, murmuring quietly among themselves. Rose heard the heavy drapes designed to keep out the sun's rays during the day being drawn, and moaned in relief, letting the covers slip down enough to see one woman smile wryly and place a tall cup on the table beside the bed, narrowly missing the alarm chip. Seeing her tidy away the tipped and sticky goblet Rose had left she marveled at not having crushed the thing herself the night before.

Would have served them right, she thought vaguely having to break up their little post-party orgy to come running to her. But she was distracted by the woman advising her, with a knowing look, to drink the cup's contents. A woman would be waiting in the outer rooms, she was assured, whenever Rose was ready to get up.

Then there was silence, blessed silence. And darkness. Reaching out slowly, Rose found the cup and took a drink, not even sniffing at it suspiciously first. After all, it could hardly make her feel any worse than she already did. Expecting the bitter, nasty taste that seemed to accompany every hangover remedy she'd ever tried, she was surprised to find it tasted more like plain milk. Maybe a little mint. Cool, simple, and soothing on her twisting stomach.

She emptied the cup, and then crawled back into her little nest. Her attendants had apparently stripped her — sandals and all — and bundled her under the covers sometime in the night before she froze to death in the cool desert air. Women, she mused, as she found herself feeling suddenly drowsy again. Took proper care of her. Didn't leave her all alone, or make nasty comments about her inferior heritage and constitution. _Much_ better than men, her bleary mind concluded. Maybe when she woke up she'd become a lesbian, just for spite. See how the guys liked _that_.....

~~~~~~~~~

Rose ended up missing most of the morning events, but had herself up and together — head still sore, but eyes focusing and pain manageable — in time to attend the installation itself. It was inside another great hall, maybe a church of some kind or the main throne room? She couldn't tell. Didn't much care. It was cool, and dim, and reasonably quiet as she made her way down through the now familiar women's half of the room.

While the ceremony progressed, she let her eyes wander over to the other side of the aisle. They were both watching the ceremony, giving her a chance to get a good look at them. Jack looked much as he did the night before, but the Doctor, she was surprised to note, looked a bit the worse for wear. There was a definite tension in his face and posture that hadn't been there the night before.

As though he felt her eyes upon him, he looked up and immediately beamed her a smile. She'd almost responded instinctively before remembering her annoyance with him and turning quickly back to the proceedings. Oh, no. The big git wasn't getting off with a grin and a wave of the hand this time. Somehow she was going to make them both pay.

For a grand ceremonial, the actual installation was mercifully short. Before she knew it, Rose was headed back to her rooms for a light lunch and a quick change back into her own clothes. When the woman who had fetched her the first night came to lead her back to the front hall, Rose fully expected to have to wait around for the guys. The Doctor would probably be making the most of congratulating the new sheik and all, and God knows how long before he'd be ready to leave.

She'd resigned herself to a long, embarrassing wait, and was already adding that to the score she intended to settle, when she came around the corner to find Jack and the Doctor there ahead of her. A quick wave to the butler and they were off, heading out to where the TARDIS was stashed behind an abandoned shed in a field.

When Jack had reached for her, she'd shrugged away. The Doctor didn't even try. They spent the ten-minute walk back in silence, Rose a few feet ahead, leading the way.

She let herself in with her own key and headed straight for her old room, not sparing a glance behind. The guys could do what they damned well pleased. She was going to take a nice, long shower. Alone.

~~~~~~~~~

The knock came tentatively some time later as she sat on her bed, combing out her wet hair. They'd apparently decided to let her have her shower in peace. She'd felt the shaking of take off and set down both while under the spray, so she knew they weren't in Ffokinem anymore. She decided she didn't really care.

"Rose?"

Jack, sounding at least appropriately contrite. She sighed. As though the Doctor was going to admit to having messed up anyway. Probably just sick of her 'stupid ape' tantrum.

In all honesty, so was she. It would be so much easier if she even knew what she was feeling anymore. At least that first night it had just been lust, pure and simple. Now? She was hurt — at being abandoned, at knowing they'd be fine without her. And scared. Scared they didn't need her anymore, and scared at how much she'd discovered she did need them. And not just for the sex.

Overall, her little ape brain was pretty much still splitting the difference and settling for calling the whole mess "bloody brassed off".

Stupid little ape brain.

"Rose?"

The voice was louder now, more concerned. She sighed. There was no point in waiting until he burst the door down to make sure she was all right. "Come in."

Jack stepped quickly through the doorway and dropped to one knee in front of where she was sitting, putting them relatively eye-to-eye. This time she didn't bother to shake off the hands that reached for her shoulders. "Are you all right?"

_Do I look all right, Jack?_ her brain snapped back. But the concern in his eyes was too genuine. "Yeah, Jack. I'm fine." As he moved up to sit next to her on the bed, she dug around in the coin pocket of her jeans for the alarm chip, fished it out, and dropped it in his hand. "The Doctor was right, they treated me like a fairytale princess." She heard how flat her voice sounded, but didn't much care. "I see Mr. Superior Alien Being isn't bothering to drop by."

"He's scared, Rose."

Now that caught her attention, and she couldn't help laughing. "Oi! Of _me_?"

But Jack wasn't laughing. "He's afraid the minute you see him you'll demand to be taken home." Rose just gaped at him. "He figures if anyone can talk you into staying it would be me."

The Doctor was afraid to lose her? After everything he'd shown her? After everything they'd done? Scared enough he wouldn't even ask himself?

"So?"

Rose shook off her daze and realized that Jack was waiting, seriously, for an answer.

"No," she saw a panicked look in his eyes, "I mean yes, I mean if you two still even _need_ me around after the last couple of days...."

"Please, Rose." The Doctor stood in the doorway, eyes hooded. All flashy grins and smug superiority gone in favor of simple, naked truth. "I need you."

"We both need you, Rose," Jack added, the tiniest bit of desperation creeping into his voice. "Please don't leave us?"

"Leave _you_ two?" She was laughing and crying at the same time. What a ridiculous thought! How could they even seriously ask? "Not until the day you shove this stupid little ape out the door and back into the jungle where she belongs!"

She saw the Doctor wince, "Rose you're _not_ a stupid—"

"I love you, you idiot." She turned from the Doctor's stunned expression to Jack sitting beside her. "You too." Somewhere her little ape brain had finally realized that the common ground in her twisted knot of emotions wasn't anger. It was fear. "What would I do without you two?"

Tears were streaming down her face, so she didn't see him move, but she knew by heart the feel of the jumper she was burying her face in, and the feel of muscles beneath thin cotton under the arm she wrapped around Jack.

Somehow they all ended up lying on her little bed, both men wrapped tightly enough around her that they managed to fit, as she cried herself out. Rose couldn't even feel stupid about it, not when the guys were taking on the task of soothing her so seriously, apologizing in kissed whispers for anything and everything. And just _holding_ her finally, so tight she could only just breathe.

It was wonderful.

***************************

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally posted at [A Teaspoon And An Open Mind](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=1190) and before that in [my LiveJournal](http://diannelamerc.livejournal.com/154818.html)._


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